


Shattered Minds

by Westward



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Guilty Lucifer, Hurt Chloe Decker, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Lucifer, but mostly ignores canon plot, covers season 1 and 2, this one gets a bit dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westward/pseuds/Westward
Summary: When Chloe was 19, she was kidnapped by cultists and offered as a bride to the Devil.When Chloe was 33, she met Lucifer Morningstar.





	1. White Dress, Bloodied Blade

**Author's Note:**

> So this was based off of a question I had one night: What if Chloe met the Devil before Lucifer Morningstar? And it resulted in this. Queue me making these characters go through unnecessary trauma so that they can comfort one another.

 

When Chloe was 19, she went out on a date with a man named Jared.

He was nice, if a bit shy, with curly dark hair and large glasses. His figure was lean, more limbs than person. He always wore sweaters and turtlenecks despite the southern Californian heat. Jared enjoyed books about art history and mint flavored hot chocolate and spending rainy afternoons in the campus library. He was secretary of UCLA’s debate club and he ran track every Monday and Thursday.

In all honesty, Chloe found him to be a bit boring. But Jared didn’t know about _Hot Tub High School_ , or about the death of her father, which had been heavily publicized throughout Los Angeles for the last few months. Chloe couldn’t lie to herself: Jared was a distraction. And he was everything Chloe needed to escape reality for a while.

So when Jared approached her after their only shared class together this semester, she didn’t bat an eye. She didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation for dinner and a movie, not even caring about which one they would see. Chloe couldn’t go back home to a house that was too empty. Too quiet. To a mother that wouldn’t speak to her, only cry in her room for hours on end.

One night out on this coming Saturday, that’s what she needed. One night to forget about everything.

When Chloe was 19, she was kidnapped by cultists and offered as a bride to the Devil.

* * *

 

Chloe and Jared had left the movie cinema late Saturday night, just after a rainstorm had passed over LA. Chloe found that she had actually enjoyed _Meet the Parents,_ especially with Jared’s company. It was easy to get along with him, but he wasn’t boyfriend material. But Chloe could definitely see him becoming a friend in the future. And she had been pleasantly surprised that Jared agreed. Still, he was insistent on being a gentleman and offered to walk Chloe to her car.

But to get to her car they had to walk through a back alley. And at the time, the two young college sophomores thought nothing of it. There were many alleys in LA, and this was a good neighborhood. The two had barely noticed that someone had followed them down the alley.

Halfway through the alleyway, the two were attacked by unknown assailants. Three grown men wearing thick hoodies and face masks had jumped Jared, throwing him against the brick wall before pummeling him without mercy. Without thinking, Chloe had jumped to his defense, ready to make use those self defense classes her father made her go to since she started middle school.

“No! Don’t touch him!” Chloe shouted as punched one of the men with as much force as she could muster.

But Chloe’s efforts to save Jared were rewarded with a piece of wood as a makeshift weapon, a remnant of an old 2x4 someone had used to build something. The man whacked her in the head with it, sending her tumbling to the ground. The force of the hit threatened to make her vomit her popcorn and soda. Chloe coughed as she tried to get her bearings, rolling over to her side to get on all fours, crawling in garbage to get away from the fight.

“Damn it Colby! Don’t damage the girl!” One of the men shouted as Jared cried out in pain.

Chloe looked up, and her eyes focused just enough to see Jared’s face beaten to a bloody pulp. His glasses were shattered, his nose visibly broken, and he was coughing up blood through bruised and bulging lips. Jared was barely holding onto consciousness now.

“We need her in one piece! Get her out of here before someone hears us!” The man continued.

Chloe felt her own attacker dig their nails into her shoulder, pulling her up from the ground roughly. As a last ditch effort Chloe did her best to pull away, biting and screaming as she did so. But then she felt a cloth pressed against her face, and her limbs suddenly felt like lead. Soon the world faded out of view, the ringing in her ears overpowering the sounds of the city.

When Chloe finally started to come to, she was immediately greeted with the throbbing pain on her forehead. She groaned at the pain, opening her eyes only to feel how her skin struggled against crusted blood. Part of her hair felt stiff at the roots. Her vision was hazy, unfocused. Chloe was too disoriented for the first few minutes of regaining consciousness to understand nothing more than that she was hurt, and that she was lying on something cold and hard.

Slowly Chloe started taking herself in. The French braid that she had done for her date that night had been taken out, her hair now loose and slightly curled, covering half of her face. Through the strands of blond hair, Chloe raised her head to look up, only to realize that the blouse and jean jacket she had had been wearing was replaced with a white beach dress, the fabric decorated in a soft pastel blue flower pattern. Her shoes were gone, she was now barefoot.

But what caught Chloe’s attention the most was that not only was her hands zip tied together, but someone had placed a bouquet between her two hands. It was taped against her skin, keeping it from falling out of her grasp. The bouquet was small, with only a few white lilies and other decorative plant pieces.

Chloe panicked at both the sight of the bouquet and the fact that she was tied up. Her breathing started to quicken, and she was bombarded with memories of what had happened. She tried to sit up, but rough hands forced her back down against the cold surface she was lying on. Her body still felt weak; whatever they had drugged her with was still in her system.

With a shake of her head, Chloe forced the hair out of her eyes enough to see that there were seven red robed figures standing above her, surrounding her. Their hoods were too large, and the room too dimly lit, to see their faces. Chloe could barely see the room behind them, and she only noticed how the walls were painted dark, and the only light source in the room seemed to be from dozens of lit candles.

“Wh—where am I? What’s going on?!” Chloe asked, her voice rough with phlegm and panic.

“Silence girl. Now that you’ve awakened, the ceremony will commence.” The man that held her down spoke, his voice old and stern, uncaring. He paused only to fix her hair, placing the strands back over the wound as if to conceal it. “If you do as we say and remain still and quiet, no harm will come to you.”

Like Chloe was about to believe that. She was freaking kidnapped by deranged lunatics in robes, and they looked like they were about to sacrifice her to the devil. Chloe couldn’t stop the growing panic when she couldn’t help but realize that there was a good chance she was going to die by their hands.

Chloe couldn’t help but flinch as the seven figures began to chant in a language she couldn’t recognize. Was it Latin? It was always Latin in those old horror movies. Simultaneously, the seven figures raised their hands, palms open. Only one held something in their hand: a dagger. Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as the glint of steel was caught in the candlelight. Chloe kept her eyes on the dagger as the robed figure brought the dagger near her hand.

And Chloe flinched at the pain as she felt the steel slice across the back of her right hand. It was not a deep cut, only enough to draw blood. She could feel warm fluid start to drip down her skin.

Someone took her hands and held the cut over a small wooden bowl. Through the chanting, Chloe could almost hear the drops of her blood fall into the bowl. Chloe found herself crying from the pain and fear she was feeling, big tears dripping down her face, her mascara leaving dark lines. It felt like forever before the figure finally dropped her hands, and then all of them walked away. Chloe turned her head to watch as they formed a large circle in front of the altar, taking the candles from the room’s sides and placed them on the floor. With the candles on the floor, Chloe could spot the red paint against the hardwood floor, forming a—

Was that a pentagram? Chloe sucked in a short breath when she realized that these were honest to god crazy cultist Satanists. They _were actually_ going to kill her in the name of the devil. She _was_ going to die by the hands of cultists.

Chloe could only watch as the red robed figure with the bowl walked to the center of the pentagram and began drawing on the floor with her blood. The chanting from the others grew louder until they were almost shouting. When finished with her blood, the figure returned to the others. And then the seven figures all knelt around the pentagram, leaving a very noticeable open space that faced Chloe and the altar she was still lying on.

And suddenly the chanting stopped. The sudden silence was deafening. But it was soon broken as the man from before spoke out loud.

“Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, hear us now.” The supposed leader stated in English. His head was bent low, the red hood still completely covering his face. “The order of the Red Blades has faithfully served you for over a thousand years. To honor the pact our ancestors made, we present to you a new offering for your continued gifts and guidance.

“Here within our Sanctuary, we offer an untouched virgin of great beauty. The Oracle of the Order has foreseen her by your side. Take her now, O’ Great and Powerful Evil, as your consort, to pleasure and please you.

“From the power of the ancient tomes and words long forgotten, we call you to break the shackles holding you within your Unholy Kingdom. We summon you to Earth now to accept our offering!” The man continued, his voice growing louder until he was practically shouting. “Come, O’ Lucifer! And accept your new bride!”

The others began to chant again. And to Chloe’s shock and horror, a haze was beginning to form from the center of the pentagram. There was the sound of something sizzling, and then there was the stench of sulfur. The seven candles that circled the pentagram, one for each of the cult members, flickered as if a strong breeze had swept through the room.

The candles blew out.

The chanting stopped.

Chloe waited in terrifying suspense, shivering uncontrollably.

And then, as if by magic, the candles relit themselves.

There, standing in the middle of the pentagram was a new figure. The cultists bowed further, prostrating themselves until their heads touched the floor. It was as if they didn’t dare look at the newcomer. Chloe couldn’t pay them much attention to the cultists, for her attention was on the newcomer. It felt like her heart had stopped beating, her fingers felt cold and numb. The half of her mind that was still working wondered if she had truly died from fright. Even in the dim light, Chloe could tell that whatever this thing was, it was _not human_.

For a long moment, the newcomer in question stood there motionless, arms at its sides. The thing wore a finely tailored suit, which was perhaps the most normal quality about it. There was nothing normal, however, about its face. Its face was made of red flesh, scarred and burnt like someone who had perished in a long raging house fire. The thing tilted its head, and then it fixed its cuffs. Chloe stared at those hands, seeing that they were just as monstrously deformed and scarred as its face.

Slowly it stepped out of the pentagram, forward towards the altar. Chloe could hear its shoes against the squeaky floorboards. She couldn’t help but shiver as the thing approached her wordlessly. She caught its eyes. They were inhuman, as they were nothing but black with glowing balls of fire that penetrated the darkness of the room. It kept its eyes locked onto hers, never blinking. She briefly wondered if it could see the terror in her eyes. If it even bothered to care.

Now that it was standing barely two feet away from her, Chloe was forced make a horrible realization. The Devil was real.

The Devil suddenly caught her hands, and Chloe couldn’t stop herself from flinching as the marred flesh touched her. Surprisingly, it paused in its motion as if waiting for Chloe’s permission to continue. It then slowly turned over her hand, as if not to spook her. It inspected the wound the red robed cultist inflicted on her, rubbing a thumb over the injury delicately. Chloe caught the twitch of its lips as it pulled the bouquet out of her hands and tossed it aside indifferently.

The Devil then brought its other hand up to her face. Chloe couldn’t help but twist away from its reach, her neck straining to put as much distance between them. But it did not touch her face; rather it pulled aside her hair. Fresh air touched her head wound, and her head throbbed again for a brief moment. Chloe silently watched as what she could only consider a frown start to form on the Devil’s features. There was a burst of light from its inferno eyes, giving the Devil a furious look.

Before she could stop herself, Chloe shuddered. “I’m not a virgin.”

Her soft outcry earned her the Devil’s full attention again. It’s hellfire eyes snapped to hers again, and they narrowed. It’s expression was completely indiscernible.

“Silence, Worm!” A new voice shouted from behind. “You will not speak without permission from your Lord!”

Both Chloe and the Devil turned to see that one of the robed cultists had jumped from his position. His stood with his chest puffed out, an accusatory finger pointed towards Chloe. The cultist appeared before her in three giant strides and slapped her across the face before Chloe could prepare herself. Her cheek stung, and fresh tears were beginning to spill.

“But if what you say is true, then you are not worthy of—”

Before the cultist could continue, the Devil had grabbed the man by his throat and held him high by just one arm. The cultist made choking noises, grabbing at his throat as his feet dangled uselessly a foot off the ground. The Devil was glaring at the man, seething. Chloe could feel the intense heat rolling off of its body. The Devil then shoved the cultist to the ground, the entire room shuddering from the impact. Yet still the Devil held the man by the neck, squeezing it tightly.

The Devil opened its mouth, about to speak for the first time since its arrival. But it was immediately interrupted as the cult leader finally stood up.

“Please, I beg for your forgiveness on behalf of young Walter. He is young, and foolish.” The man said. And surprisingly, this seemed to gain the attention from the Devil, as it turned its head towards the other cultists. “But I assure you, he will be punished accordingly for laying a hand on your new bride.”    

The Devil seemed to consider it for a moment. And then it reluctantly let go of its hold on the man. Choked sobs filled the room as Walter tried his best to breathe again, and Chloe could only barely make out his figure crawling away, out of the Devil’s reach. Still, Chloe could see the tension in the Devil’s shoulders, the anger that was barely restrained.

The Devil swiftly turned around to face her again, and again Chloe flinched from its inhuman gaze. She couldn’t stop crying now, her breathing irregular and heavy with tears. This was all too much; she was pushed past her breaking point. Chloe hadn’t cried like this since finding out her father had been murdered in cold blood.

Chloe felt its hands on her shoulders, urging her gently up from her spot on the altar. Chloe’s instincts told her to fight, to run away from this thing. Whatever it wanted from her wouldn’t be good. This was _the Devil_ for fuck’s sake. But she was paralyzed from her fear too.  She couldn’t move on her own volition as the Devil propped her up to a sitting position before placing a hand on her back and helping her stand up.

It towered over Chloe, easily half a foot taller than her. It then took her hands, finally noticing how they were zip tied together. It frowned again and shook its head. Chloe bowed her head low, staring at both her bare feet and the expensive looking shoes the Devil was wearing. She felt its grip on her hands tighten, and then there was an arm around her, pulling her close to its chest. Chloe blinked the tears away as best she could. This was it.

“Please.” Chloe said softly through her sobs. “Please don’t do this.”

If anything, the Devil’s hold on her tightened in response to her pleading. It let go of her hand, but only to place its own hand on the back of her head, pushing her towards the crook of its neck. It felt like such a loving embrace, but it felt twisted to know that it came from a monster.

Suddenly, there was the sound of wind rushing by Chloe’s ears. The wind was almost knocked out of her lungs, and she almost fell over. The Devil’s hold on her tightened again, as if to keep her from slipping free. The world almost seemed to spin around them, and it showed no intention of stopping.

And in the next instant, the Devil’s hold on her was gone. Chloe ripped herself away from it; her feet had trouble keeping her upright. She walked as if she was drunk, stumbling against walls that shouldn’t have been there, and Chloe was only just conscious enough to notice that she was walking on asphalt instead of hardwood paneling.

A brick wall suddenly came rushing towards Chloe, and she braced herself as best as she could with her hands still tied together. Her shoulder dug into the bricked wall, and she leaned against it for support as she bent over and dry heaved, nothing but bile and spit coming up. She spat it against the asphalt. Momentarily, Chloe forgot that the Devil was still by her side. She only remembered when she felt an unnaturally warm hand soothingly rub her back. But it stopped as soon as it noticed that she had noticed.

Slowly the world stopped spinning. Things started to make sense again. Chloe could hear the sounds of voices off in the distance, as well as cars that were rushing by at high speeds. And most surprisingly, the sound of summer crickets. Chloe looked up from the dirty asphalt, only to notice that she was outside, the sky above dark and full of clouds. They were no longer in that dark, creepy room, but in an alleyway next to a pair of large green dumpsters, overflowing with trash.

Chloe looked to the nearest end of the alley, only to spot a gas station sign. And there were cars, and _people_. Now she was thoroughly confused, she turned to the Devil for answers. She found the Devil hugging the shadows, doing its best to remain in the safety of the dark night. It kept its eyes on her, but other than that it was emotionless.

Chloe finally found enough confidence to speak up. “Why did you bring me here?”

But of course, she didn’t receive an answer from it. If anything, it finally dropped its eyes away from her, turning to face away. The Devil let out a tired sigh before it approached her again, arms stretched out.

But this time, Chloe was ready. As panic and adrenaline started pumping through her veins again, Chloe acted on instinct. As soon as the Devil was close enough, Chloe brought a knee up to the monster’s groin, putting as much strength into the kick as she could. And to her pleasant surprise, the Devil let out a pitiful groan in pain as it bent over. Maybe this thing was much more of a man than she had originally thought. To further stun the Devil, Chloe balled up her fists and brought it down on the thing’s head.

And she watched in relief as the Devil fell to its knees.

Chloe took this opportunity and sprinted away, intent on putting as much distance between herself and the Devil as possible. She just needed to get out in public, find a payphone or someone who knew where she was. She doubted the Devil was in any state to follow her and drag her down into Hell.

Chloe didn’t stop running until her feet felt ravaged by the rough tarmac under her. She was out of breath as she finally cried out for help, hoping that anyone would notice her.

“Help, please! I’ve been kidnapped!” Chloe shouted at the top of her lungs. “Somebody, please help me!”

Immediately customers of the gas station turned to face her. Any initial doubt or skepticism they had for her was washed away as they saw her hands bound together, the tear streaked makeup that covered her face, and the dried blood that coated her wounds. Chloe spotted a mother standing by her mini-van as she was refueling it, and she noticed the horrified look on her face. Trusting her gut, Chloe stumbled over to her, hoping that she would be willing to help her.

10 minutes later, the local deputy sheriff was there, taking Chloe’s statement as she sat in the back of an ambulance, a shock blanket wrapped around her. A paramedic was tending to her injured hand, having disinfected it and was now bandaging it up. Chloe did her best to answer the officer’s questions, but she found that she was distracted. Her eyes kept drifting back to the alley behind the gas station, expecting to see a figure with flaming eyes lurking in the dark.

But it was empty.

* * *

 

When Chloe finally returned home, days after her date with Jared, she was filthy and exhausted. Her hair felt limp against her head, her days old injuries now in the part of the healing process where everything itched like hell. There was a fine layer of grime over her skin and all she wanted to do was take a hot shower until her skin burned from the heat. Chloe’s limbs felt like lead, and she stumbled around the house like a B-rated zombie extra: quiet and emotionless.

Despite her mother’s best attempts for Chloe to eat something, Chloe found that she didn’t really have any kind of appetite. Food tasted bland, and it was unappealing. Chloe lost a lot of weight over the next couple weeks.

She had trouble sleeping as well. Most nights Chloe only managed a couple hours before she woke up screaming. Her mother would be there by the side of her bed and on her knees, shaking Chloe’s shoulders, desperate to save her daughter from the nightmares that plagued her. In the low light of her room, Chloe would only regain complete awareness to see tears streaming down her mother’s face. And Chloe would place a hand on her own face, only to feel her own face was wet. Her mother would beg her to tell her what had happened, what was haunting her nightmares.

And when Chloe finally confided in her mother, that she had seen the face of the Devil, she was rewarded with several appointments to psychiatrists. They were “experts” that would help her understand the severe trauma she had undergone. Doctor after doctor, they would tell her that what she saw wasn’t real, and as much as Chloe wanted to believe them, she knew what she saw. She would never be able to forget it.

When they realized that she couldn’t let go, they put her on medication. Chloe didn’t fight them. The drugs helped her sleep, and finally night became the one place she could escape from her thoughts. Slowly, over months and months of just surviving, of getting by one day at a time, the world seemed worth living for again.

Eventually Chloe did find a therapist that she felt comfortable enough to open up with. Dr. Rivera was a quiet man, one who mostly worked with war veterans, but didn’t question when his newest client was a 19 year old girl. And he helped Chloe come to terms with her PTSD. How to deal with it and how to move forward in life.

After seeing Dr. Rivera for a year, Chloe did feel like she had improved. She felt like she could overcome this.

And then Chloe learned that Jared had died that night.

No matter what she told herself, Chloe felt responsible for his death. His blood was on her hands. If she hadn’t gone on that date with him, then he would still be alive. Jared would still be in the debate club, he would still run track, and he would still talk about 14th century German artists with an enthusiasm Chloe would never understand.

The same week Chloe learned about Jared’s fate, she dropped out of UCLA.

A week later, Chloe applied for Los Angeles’ police academy.

 


	2. A Proper First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to say that I am completely overwhelmed by the response to this fic. It warms my heart that a lot of people like it so much. I've read all of your comments, but sadly I couldn't reply to any of them due to technical problems on my side (such as my old computer slowly dying and my apartment was without power since Saturday. I've only just regained power today). When able, I will respond to all comments, both old and new, because y'all obviously care a lot about this fic.
> 
> Secondly, since I'm currently going through a technical hell, updates for this fic will be sporadic at best. All my current Lucifer WIPS are backed up on an external hard drive and a USB, but I don't want to risk losing any writing progress until I'm sure I can either fix my old computer or have to replace it. Until then, enjoy :)

When Chloe was 33, she met Lucifer Morningstar.

The murder of Delilah had seemed like an easy case to solve. A dead celebrity that was barely clinging on the edge of prominence; she nothing more than a washed up pop idol with a known drug addiction. And the obvious suspect had been a drug dealer with a payment that had gone wrong. Lieutenant Monroe hadn’t given the case to Chloe out of sympathy. More like she had done it to keep her quiet, occupied. So Chloe could be out of the way where she can’t be any more of a nuisance.

Chloe accepted the case without complaint, knowing that she wasn’t in any position to argue with her lieutenant.

But somehow, Dan was on the scene before her.

As Chloe pulled up to the crime scene, only to spot her ex-husband already speaking with the medical examiner, she couldn’t help but groan in frustration. For a brief second, she allowed herself to rest her head on the steering wheel, muttering a short expletive under her breath. She should have expected that Dan would have been sent to babysit her. But she wasn’t some dog that needed to be leashed.

Chloe willed herself to restrain some of her frustration and exited the car, not bothering if she had slammed the door close. Dan spotted her approach, and Chloe did her best to not let his own sigh of irritation noticeably bother her.  Dan waved away the medical examiner as Chloe approached, and then he turned to her.

Chloe spoke first, her words curt. “Dan, what are you doing here? This is my case, and I don’t need any handholding.”

“Chloe, I was only in the neighborhood. The lieutenant called me and told me what was going on.” Dan answered, placing his hands on his hips. “Let me lend a hand. Hopefully then we can put this case to bed before the end of the night.”

Yet Chloe doubted that. She felt her eye twitch as she shook her head. “You seriously think that this case is that easy?”

As Dan answered, he pointed towards the body of Delilah, which was already sealed up in a body bag and being packed away in the medical examiner’s van. The autopsy wouldn’t be performed until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

“A dead celebrity with a drug problem. Our shooter was her dealer; her phone number was listed in his cell phone. This case seems to be pretty easy, yeah.”

“No, I’m not buying it.” Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. “What are you really doing here, Dan? If this case really is as simple as that, then you wouldn’t be here keeping an eye on me.”

And there was that reaction of his whenever she had caught him in a lie. He shifted his weight onto the next foot, digging his hands into his pockets as he turned to look to something off in the distance. That subtle raise of an eyebrow out of annoyance. Dan let out a small sigh before grinding his teeth. Chloe hated when Dan did this, when he treated her like she couldn’t handle the truth.

Chloe narrowed her eyes as she frowned. “Spit it out, Dan. I don’t have all night.”

“Okay, Okay Chlo.” Dan finally relented. “I’m here because our key witness…” And he paused again, as if trying to find the right words. “Our key witness is a man who goes by the name Lucifer Morningstar.”

And just like that, Chloe’s firm expression faltered. Her mind went blank for just a brief moment before she was transported back 14 years, to that horrible room. To being just a young college girl trying to find her place in the world after it was destroyed around her.  To being sacrificed by unhinged fanatics and seeing the face of a monster. In that moment, she was not in the streets of LA; she was alone in the dark, staring up at the face of the Devil.

And then just as quickly, the moment was gone. Chloe didn’t realize how much time had passed, and how she suddenly lost control of her breathing. Dan’s eyes were on her, concern apparent as he brought a hand to her elbow. Chloe was quick to bring her elbow out of his grasp, and she steadied herself.  Chloe didn’t need Dan’s help.

“I’m fine Dan. I can do this myself.” Chloe said, averting her eyes from him. Surprising herself, Chloe found that her voice was steady. “I don’t need a babysitter just because some whacko decided to change his name to the Devil’s. It’s LA; stranger things have happened.”

“… Okay.” And just by the tone of his voice, Chloe could tell that Dan didn’t sound entirely convinced. More like he just realized this was an argument he couldn’t win. “If you say you can do this, then I believe you. But you shouldn’t have to torture yourself either, Chloe.”

“I’m not going to let what happened to me 14 years ago rule my life Dan. I’m over it.”

“Just… promise me you’ll back off if it gets to be too much. Please.”

Chloe sighed, knowing that this wouldn’t be the last of this conversation. The sooner the case was solved, the better. “I promise. Now go home; I can do this.”

Thankfully Dan took the hint, even if Chloe had to metaphorically beat him over the head with it. Chloe only paused just to make sure Dan got in his car before turning her attention to the crime scene. The whole street was a mess, but thankfully blocked off from traffic and curious bystanders. Chloe paid them no attention as she inspected the crime scene, doing her best to ignore the camera flashes as she took notes. She took her time in her investigation, and Chloe tried not to think of this as delaying her inevitable conversation with Mr. Morningstar.

But as time grew on, Chloe knew she was keeping her key witness waiting. With a sigh and a brief moment to prepare herself, Chloe entered the nightclub Lux, the establishment that Mr. Morningstar supposedly owned and operated.

Inside the place was eerily empty, but there were definite signs that this place had been a booming hotspot only hours ago. Abandoned drinks littered the place, occupying any flat surface available. There were a few articles of clothing abandoned as well, scattered throughout the place: a few jacket or coats, and Chloe even spotted a pair of ridiculously tall heels. Employees were busy trying to clean up, knowing that the party was closed for the night. Chloe watched them work as she entered the main area, walking down a set of stairs. The party lights had been turned off, making the nightclub eerily dark, save for the overhead lights that must have been used during day hours.

What surprised Chloe the most, however, was the faint piano music that grew in volume as she approached. It didn’t sound like a recording. As Chloe turned the corner, she spotted the grand piano that sat in the middle of the large room. Whoever was playing the instrument had their back towards her, but she could see the bespoke suit the man wore. His jacket had been tossed aside onto a nearby stool, revealing a black silk vest that clung to his button up shirt.

A bottle of gin, half empty, sat next to a glass on top of the piano. Smoke wafted through the air, and Chloe could smell tobacco and nicotine.  She briefly spotted the man take a drag before bringing his hand back down towards the keys.

Chloe sighed. This must be her man.

As she approached, Chloe fished out her small notepad from her pocket. Clicking on the end of her pen, Chloe leaned against the piano, immediately gaining the attention of the man, who spared her a quick glance before returning his attention to the piano’s keys. Yet he didn’t even pause as he puttered away on the piano.

The man was quite handsome, Chloe would give him that. But so was almost half of LA. He had dark hair that looked like it had been meticulously styled. Dark brown eyes that looked ancient and almost cold at first. A strong nose and jaw line that was covered in well groomed stubble. All in all, he looked like a man that knew he had been blessed with good genes, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

 “You must be Lucifer Morningstar.” Chloe started, mentally congratulating herself for not stumbling over that name. She was already beginning to take notes, the pen scribbling against the paper. She caught the small nod of his head and she continued. “Huh, is that a stage name or something?”

And then the man smiled cheekily. “God given, I’m afraid.”

“So you’re the actual Devil?” Chloe further asked, her tone of voice implying that she didn’t believe him.

“That’s correct. Immortal deity, eternal damnation, ruler of Hell. The whole 9 yards.”

“Uh huh.”

Chloe somehow managed to avoid rolling her eyes. Okay, barely five seconds into this conversation and she was already certain this man was slightly deranged. Either that or he knew how to pull on an act. Still, no red skin. No glowing fire eyes. At least there was that.

“I’m Chloe Decker, a homicide detective with the LAPD. I’ve been assigned to Delilah’s case. Mind if I ask a few questions?” Chloe asked.

“By all means, Detective, go on ahead.”

Chloe did her best to keep it simple. She asked Mr. Morningstar to relay the scene, up to when the first responders arrived. He did so with remarkable clarity, and Chloe only briefly paused to wonder if the man had a photographic memory. Chloe asked if there had been anything unusual, or if he had noticed or remembered anything of great importance. What did catch her attention was that Mr. Morningstar had spoken to the shooter before he died from his wounds. She didn’t like the idea that her key witness liked to play cop, but it did supply her with information to formulate a lead.

But other than that, it looked like Mr. Morningstar himself wasn’t tied to the case. He couldn’t supply her with much more information, his tone of voice turning away from that of cheeky banter to that more of someone hurt and grieving. She could tell Mr. Morningstar was angry at the loss; Delilah must have been a good friend to him.

And then he interrupted her mid question, leaning over the piano closer to her. He kept his gaze on her face. He took a drag of his cigarette before speaking.

“You know you look quite familiar. Have we slept together?” Mr. Morningstar abruptly asked.

The question surprised Chloe, and she found that she couldn’t respond for a few seconds. And then there was a spark of anger within her.

“Excuse me? I don’t understand how that is either appropriate or relevant right now, Mr. Morningstar.”

“Lucifer, please.” He corrected her, pausing only to take a swing of his drink. “No, I’m quite certain of it. We must’ve slept together. I’ve definitely seen your face before. Here, try making this face.”

And then Mr. Morningstar was making an expression that Chloe could only describe as belonging to someone mid-orgasmic climax.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m _quite certain_ that I haven’t seen yours before.” Chloe said. And now her irritation was definitely audible. Lucifer had the audacity to smirk when hearing her bubbling anger, and Chloe knew that she wasn’t getting anything more out of him. With a glare, Chloe closed her notebook and placed it back in her pocket. “I think that’s enough for now. Don’t leave Los Angeles until I’ve wrapped this case up, Mr. Morningstar.”

And as she stormed away, Chloe could hear the piano stool being abruptly pushed aside.

“Detective. Wait!” Lucifer called out to her.

She tried to hurry her steps, eager to leave Lux and its proprietor behind as fast as possible. This night was turning out to be literal hell for her. But it seemed that Lucifer’s longer strides allowed him to catch up with her before she reached the staircase. His hand caught Chloe’s elbow, and he pulled her back to face him. She resisted, trying her best to yank her arm away from his hand. She glared up at Lucifer, only to see that his playful expression had changed to a more serious one. Those brown eyes almost looked black.

“Detective. Please. I need your word that you will solve this case.”

“I know how to do my job, Mr. Morningstar.”

“No, that’s not good enough!” He shouted.

He was suddenly too close to her. Whether it was just word association or just his presence, Chloe couldn’t handle it anymore. With a blink of her eyes, Chloe was back _there_. Lux’s employees were suddenly ambiguous figures draped in flowing red robes, each holding a single lit candle. Lucifer Morningstar was no longer a deranged man who claimed he was the Devil, he _was_ the Devil.  His once handsome face was replaced with scarred flesh. The hand that held her felt in place like it was tightening its grip until it was almost painful. It’s fingernails felt like it was digging into her flesh. No matter how hard Chloe pulled, she couldn’t get away.

And his eyes. They were _those_ eyes.

Why was she here? Why was _it_ here?

_Please! Please don’t take me!_

_Don’t do this!_

And with another blink, she was back in the present. Her breathing was fast paced, irregular. There was a small pang of panic or worry in Lucifer’s eyes (and they were normal colored eyes, thank god), and he was frowning. Chloe realized that she had braced herself against the stair’s railing for support during her fit of terror. Lucifer’s hand was still on her, but it was nowhere near as tight as she had imagined it. His other hand hovered over her back, as if Lucifer was unsure whether to help hold or comfort her.

Chloe mentally berated herself, grinding her teeth as she did so. It had been months since she had had an episode. Now she had two within one night.

Once again Chloe tried to free her arm from Lucifer’s grip. Finally Lucifer released her, and Chloe took a few steps away from him. She needed space, fresh air. Running a hand through her loose hair, Chloe mentally counted to 10 and then back to 1, one of the tricks her old psychiatrist had taught her. Making sure her breathing was even, Chloe turned back to Lucifer, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Those dark eyes of his were still on her.

“I’ll ask you once, _politely_ , not to touch me again.” Chloe warned, her tone of voice bordering on being threatening.

“What was that?” Lucifer abruptly asked, as if he hadn’t heard Chloe’s request.

“That is none of your business. Now if you excuse me, I need to head back to the station.” Chloe grunted. “Goodnight, Mr. Morningstar.”

* * *

 

Just as her gut told her, this case wasn’t as clear cut as expected. Lucifer’s lead pointed that the displeased drug dealer had been nothing more than a pawn in the grander scheme of things. Chloe just had to figure out what that was exactly. But the more time she spent on this case, the more it felt like she was assembling a jigsaw puzzle in the dark: not entirely impossible but _very_ time consuming.

And it was just her luck that Lucifer Morningstar _did_ enjoy playing detective. Every time Chloe went to go check out a new lead, she would be surprised to find that Lucifer had been one step ahead of her, already there with her suspect having already spilled their secrets. It was infuriating to say the least, especially when Lucifer acted as if it was no biggie that her key witness was intent on solving the case behind her back.

So, going against all forms of regulations, Chloe reluctantly agreed to let Lucifer accompany her for the remainder of the investigation. She did this despite knowing that if she was caught, she’d be in bigger trouble than she already was with the lieutenant. It was better this way, making sure that Lucifer was kept on a short leash. Even if it felt like Chloe was babysitting an egotistical, self-absorbed, narcissist _asshole_ who seemed oblivious to any social norms that didn’t fit with his agenda.

To say that her opinion of Mr. Morningstar was low would be an understatement.

And _of course_ he had seen Hot Tub High School. No wonder Lucifer had been so certain he had seen her naked before. When he let slip that the DVD was part of his home collection, wearing that infuriating grin the entire time, Chloe did her best to not outright punch him in the face. Police brutality and all that.

But… despite everything, Lucifer got results. Chloe couldn’t deny that.

So if she had to spend the rest of this case with a madman who claimed he was the Devil, then so be it.

After an end to another frustrating day of working the case, the two had taken a break for a few drinks at Lux _._ It was there that they finally made a break through. They had their man: Delilah’s producer and ex-fiancé, Jimmy Barnes. Without bothering to finish their drinks, both Chloe and Lucifer rushed to the squad car. Even with the car’s squad lights on, Barnes’ studio was on the other side of LA; it would take them a while to arrive to make the arrest.

As soon as Chloe was driving down the streets, the car was filled with a tense silence. This was the first time that Lucifer was allowed to sit up front in the squad car, and it had been an obvious sign of trust. It was an olive branch that Chloe was extending to the man, and it seemed like he knew this. For the first few minutes Lucifer just sat there, twiddling his thumbs, gaze cast outside and on the passing streets.

Another minute passed in awkward silence. Lucifer brought his hand up to the radio, and Chloe quickly smacked his hand away. She may have allowed him to sit up front, but she wasn’t about to let him mess up her music. Lucifer brought his hand back to his side, but now Chloe could tell he was staring at her. From the corner of her eye, she could tell he was concentrating on her with the same intensity as when he first tried to “Jedi mind-trick” her into telling him her deepest, darkest desires.

“Okay. Spit it out. Why are you looking at me like that?” Chloe asked, breaking the tense silence in the car.

Even asking him, Chloe could still feel Lucifer’s eyes on her. Of course he didn’t take the blunt hint that she would very much like him to avert his gaze. No, instead Lucifer leaned closer, his eyes never leaving her face’s profile. Chloe tightened her grip on the steering wheel in an attempt to keep herself from looking over to him.

“You know it’s just maddening. I can’t understand you, Detective.” Lucifer said, obviously thinking out loud. “What is going on inside that head of yours?”

At this Chloe gave an irked chuckle. “Like you’re one to talk, Lucifer.”

“I don’t follow.” Lucifer said with a shake of his head. “I’ve been nothing but forthright, Detective, about who I am and what I want. I am a literal open book.”

“You haven’t even told me your real name yet. And I don’t mean ‘Lucifer’, Lucifer. Because I know that’s just a stage name. What was your real name before you changed it?”

“That’s private.” And with that tone of voice, Lucifer shot that topic down entirely.

After a few seconds of sitting in the tense silence, Chloe sighed and relented.

“Look. I guess my real problem is that I don’t understand how someone can go around and call willingly themselves the Devil. I get it if it’s for personal reasons; you don’t need to tell me if you’re dealing with some heavy stuff. It’s just weird, that’s all, equating yourself to the king of all evil.”

“I _am_ the Devil, Detective. And I am _not_ evil. ” Lucifer said, his tone of voice incredibly serious. He even sounded angry. “Please, for the sake of our growing friendship, forget any preconceived notions about the Devil. Humanity and Dad’s bloody book got most of it all wrong. And I assure you, Detective, that I mean you no harm.” And then there was a hint of teasing playfulness in his voice. “You’re probably safer with me around, actually. No need to thank me.”

Choosing to ignore all that stuff about the Devil for her own sanity, Chloe finally turned to face Lucifer. She gave him a soft smile. “So we’re friends now, huh?”

“Well, what better way to grow closer than solving the murder of an old acquaintance?” Lucifer joked.

Chloe lost her smile, her face turning stone serious again. She returned her attention to the road. “We’ll get him, Lucifer. I promise.”

“I know, Detective. I know.” And it sounded like Lucifer actually believed in her. “Jimmy Barnes will pay for what he’s done.”

They fell into silence again. Yet this time it wasn’t quite as awkward. However, this didn’t last long, as it seemed Lucifer was still curious.

“Detective, do you mind me asking why you’re so against the idea of me being the actual Devil?” Lucifer suddenly asked.

And it was here that Chloe did turn to face him, only to give him an incredulous look. And she could see that Lucifer was being completely serious. He raised his eyebrows and motioned for her to answer, and Chloe couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped her. She shook her head before she reluctantly answered him.

“Because you don’t look like the Devil?” Chloe said, her tone of voice implying that it was that obvious. But she made no further effort to actually explain to Lucifer that she had seen the face of the Devil. She didn’t need Lucifer to think she was as crazy as him; no need to further encourage him. “Besides, why would the Devil be interested in solving crimes? Wouldn’t he want them to happen? You know… adultery, murder and mayhem, stealing souls… human sacrifices?”

Here, Lucifer let out a disgusted sigh. “That falls under preconceived notions, Detective. And horrible ones, at that. What would I even do with a soul? And I have _never_ asked for human sacrifices, and I never will.”

Chloe shook her head again, but she was surprised to find herself smiling, albeit cynically. Oh, if only Lucifer knew how wrong he was.

“Still Detective,” Lucifer continued, “you haven’t really answered me.”

“Lucifer, you have your personal demons that you probably don’t want to share with me. And I’ve got my own.” Chloe stated, hoping that this would be the end of this conversation.

“Yes, but mine happens to be my bartender, Mazikeen.” Lucifer joked.

And before Chloe could stop herself, she laughed. Lucifer joined her, his laughter only making her smile grow. And for that moment, Chloe could understand Lucifer. She could see him as a man with his own problems, much different from her own, but ones that she could still understand. They just had different ways with coping with them.

So even if Chloe’s personal devil was the, well, the actual Devil, she realized that this wasn’t the case for Lucifer. The Devil was his outlet, his way of making sense of a cruel world, and not the boogeyman hiding in nightmares.

Chloe kept these thoughts to herself as they finally arrived at Barnes’ recording studio. Before she left the car, Chloe called for backup, just in case this ended up in a shootout. With a curt nod to Lucifer, the two of them left the squad car and entered the building.

All they had to do to find Barnes was follow the sound of music. The two quickly made their way down the hall and towards the active recording room. As they approached, the sound of guitars shredding and heavy drum beats grew in intensity. Chloe could barely hear a man’s voice over the ruckus; the lead singer didn’t seem to have a powerful set of lungs. The music ended abruptly, and there was the sound of someone shouting angrily. Instinctively, Chloe motioned for Lucifer to slow down and she pulled out her gun. With a nod of her head, Chloe prepared to enter the recording room.

As Chloe burst through the door, she grimaced at the sight of how many people were here. They needed to leave in case Barnes proved to be dangerous. Chloe was about to stop and order them out of the room, but couldn’t before Lucifer barged into the next room, where the band had been set up. Chloe hissed out his name in a desperate attempt to stop him, but he didn’t pay her any attention. She could see the anger that was housed in his tensed up shoulders. He was a man on a mission for vengeance, and Chloe briefly wondered if he would kill Barnes before she could detain him.

Chloe rushed after Lucifer, stepping to his side. She held to her glock tightly, ready in case Barnes did something stupid and rash. But she did so only to see that Barnes was already armed with his own pistol, and he had taken the bassist as a hostage.

“Barnes. Don’t do anything stupid.” Chloe ordered, using her cop voice. “Put the gun down now and come with us peacefully.”

But of course, Lucifer went and made things much more complicated. Lucifer was there one moment, and then he was lunging out at Barnes. Chloe watched as Barnes reacted, pulling his gun away from his hostage, and towards Lucifer, a snarl escaping from his lips.

All it took was one fast movement, and Chloe’s instincts took over. Chloe fired her gun, hitting Barnes in the shoulder. But her aim had been off; the bullet had only grazed him. Still, the hit made Barnes lose his hold on the hostage, and the young boy understood enough to scramble away from the danger as fast as possible. But Barnes wasn’t interested in regaining his hostage; his attention was now fully on Chloe.

Another shot rang through the air.

There was intense pain in Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe gasped out in pain and she dropped her gun from shock. She spared only a moment to look down at the now oozing bullet wound, and she realized that if Barnes’ aim had been a couple inches to the right she would have been a dead woman. Still, she was losing a lot of blood _much_ too quickly. That thought vanished like smoke as Chloe collapsed to the ground, her vision doubling as she landed on the floor.

The ceiling lights above danced around, causing streaks in Chloe’s vision. Her ears were ringing, and she could only partially hear Lucifer’s shouting through her own turmoil. Chloe’s breathing sounded much louder than the voices surrounding her. She was gasping as if she was starving for air. There were more gunshots. They sounded faint, as if they were far off in the distance. But Chloe couldn’t make herself pay attention to what was going on.

In her mind, Chloe was dying.

Suddenly, Lucifer’s face flooded her vision, inches away from her own. His eyes were wide with worry as he held her face with both of his hands. His incredibly warm hands. They were trembling. Chloe watched blankly as Lucifer’s mouth moved. He was obviously speaking, but the words were lost on her. In her dazed state, Chloe reached out towards Lucifer, and he grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

Finally, the world stopped spinning long enough for the panic to set in for Chloe.

“Please!” Chloe gasped, her voice airy and fragile. “I don’t want to die, Lucifer.”

“You are _not_ going to die, Detective. Not on my watch.” Lucifer said, yet she could see the dread in his eyes. He let go of Chloe’s hand, only to shrug off his suit’s jacket and press it against the bullet wound. She cried out against the pressure. “I made a promise to protect you, and I never break my promises.”

“I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go.” Chloe continued to sob, hysterics finally making her lose control. Her voice continued without her volition. “Promise me you won’t let him take me.”

And Lucifer paused at her words. “Who? Who’s taking you where?”

Didn’t he understand yet? Why didn’t Lucifer understand? She was the Devil’s bride. Her soul was already his, and the Devil was going to collect it upon her death. The Devil was going to drag her down to Hell to suffer for eternity. It was only a matter of time.

“Just promise me, Lucifer. I don’t want to go to Hell.” Chloe begged, her vision growing faint. She was just on the cusp of passing out from blood loss.

But before she completely lost consciousness, Chloe caught Lucifer’s response. “You’re not, Detective. Not when I have a say in it.”

* * *

 

Lucifer stayed by the Detective’s side at the hospital during her entire stay there.

It was an act of selflessness that was entirely uncharacteristic for the Devil. At least, he did it whenever possible. But Lucifer could be _very_ persuasive, so the hospital’s strictly enforced visiting hours didn’t really apply to him. So for the past couple days, he had been dutifully watching over the sleeping Detective’s form, his own troubled thoughts keeping him occupied.

Something about the Detective’s panic about going to Hell bothered him deeply.

During their short partnership, the Detective had made it very clear that she hadn’t actually believed he was the Devil. It didn’t bother Lucifer one bit, because no one ever did. And Lucifer wasn’t particularly trying convince her either. One possibility for the Detective’s panic could be that many humans tended to have a crisis of faith when they realized they were about to meet their end. The Detective could have been only responding to basic human instinct, one last plea for mercy before she judged her own guilt.

But something in his gut told Lucifer that that wasn’t it, either.

It was confusing.

Almost as confusing as to why this mattered so much to him.

Why was the Detective so certain that her soul would end up in Hell? From what he’s seen over the past couple days, Lucifer could tell that she was probably the one human that didn’t belong there. From finding justice for those who had been wronged to ignoring basic human, carnal desires, the Detective was purity at its finest. Lucifer had originally found it annoying, if he was honest to himself. But now it interested him more than anything.

The Detective was an enigma. One he was determined to solve.

It was on the third day that the Detective finally roused from her sleep. Instantly, Lucifer set aside the book he had brought with him and moved up onto the edge of his seat. As she groaned, hazy from the drugs they were pumping into her, Lucifer leaned forward. His hands were clasped together, precariously close to her left hand.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Detective.” Lucifer said softly.

It took a while for the Detective to fully come to her senses. Her movements were slow as she realized where she was. Lucifer watched as her confused expression slowly transformed to an exhausted one. She turned to face Lucifer, her head never leaving the pillow that was supporting it.

“How long have I been out?” The Detective asked, her voice foggy from phlegm and her time spent in a drugged sleep state.

And Lucifer couldn’t help himself. “3 years.”

He immediately cracked into a laugh as the Detective gave him a horrified expression. And as soon as he laughed, he knew that she realized it was a joke. For a moment, the Detective laid there, giving him a disgusted look. But then it cracked away with a shake of her head.

“You’re such an ass, Lucifer.” And then she was smiling, and he even earned a small chuckle from her.

She paused as she winced from her shoulder wound, realizing that she shouldn’t be moving. She then looked up at Lucifer and held his gaze. She had the most beautiful blue eyes, even when she was wearing days old make up, and her hair was limp with lack of washing. It was then that Lucifer realized that this was the first time that the Detective initiated eye contact for their entire partnership. It felt like whatever barrier that had sat between them was finally crumbling.

Finally, the Detective continued. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

And gave her a soft, genuine smile. “Well, I couldn’t let you die. Not when you were begging me not to take you to Hell. And I _am_ a Devil of my word.”

“Cut the crap, Lucifer.” The Detective said, rolling her eyes in disbelief. She paused, thoughtful for a brief moment. “I mean it: thank you.”

Lucifer sat there, letting that heartfelt expression of gratitude sink in. “… you’re most definitely welcome.”

 


End file.
